


MIGA 9: Prophecy

by Natalie L (nat1228)



Series: Make It Go Away [10]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Drama, M/M, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:26:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat1228/pseuds/Natalie%20L





	MIGA 9: Prophecy

## MIGA 9: Prophecy

#### by Natalie L

Author's website: <http://www.squidge.org/~nat1228/jagjungle.htm>  
  
  
  
This story is a sequel to: http://Buried Alive

* * *

_The elevator shook and the lights flickered, finally going out, plunging its occupant into darkness. Cables creaked and groaned as the car rattled again. Blair gripped the handrails as fear squeezed the air from his lungs, making it difficult to draw a breath. His scream ripped away the last reserves of oxygen as the car began a precipitous drop...._

==|+|==|+|==|+|==|+|== 

"Blair?" The young man in question woke abruptly in response to the quiet voice. "Another nightmare?" Jim rolled over and gathered his lover into his arms, his eyes crinkling with concern. 

Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Blair blinked to focus his vision. "...'m sorry," he mumbled. "Didn't mean to wake you." 

Jim rubbed soothing circles between Blair's shoulder blades. "You've been having these dreams for three nights now," he commented softly. "What gives?" 

Blair shifted in Jim's arms and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I don't know," he admitted, shaking his head. "The dreams always have something to do with being trapped and lots of shaking; like an earthquake or something." 

"Could they be visions?" Jim wondered, trying to make sense of his lover's nightly distress. 

"I dunno," Blair sighed, shaking his head again. "Visions always come on the heels of a seizure, and I haven't had any episodes for a couple months." He squinted down at the rumpled sentinel. "You need to get some sleep, man. You look beat." 

"Yeah, well..." Jim muttered, propping himself up on an elbow to get a better look at Blair. "I have this partner who's been having night terrors recently." 

"Not night terrors," his lover corrected gently. "Just plain old nightmares... but they've been bad enough. I'm really sorry. I know you need your rest more than I do." 

"Not true," Jim protested. "Now that school's out for the summer, you promised to put in more time at the station." 

Blair nodded. "Yeah, but Simon can't fire my butt if I come in late. Go to sleep, Jim. Get another couple hours of shut-eye." 

"You okay?" Jim studied his partner, sentinel vision allowing him to see in the dimness of the room as if it were full daylight. 

"I'm fine," Blair insisted, wiggling back under the covers and pulling up the blankets. "See? I'm going back to sleep... like you should be doing." 

Reluctantly, Jim pulled back, giving Blair his space. He took one last look at the young shaman before closing his eyes once more. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"You look like shit!" Simon commented, chewing on the end of his cigar as he surveyed his best team. 

"My fault," Blair apologized. "I've been having nightmares lately, and I'm keeping Jim up." 

"Something going on that I need to know about?" the captain asked. 

Blair shook his head. "I don't know _what's_ going on." He sighed, shoulders slumping. 

"If I didn't know better," Jim interjected, "I'd say it has something to do with his shaman thing." 

"I'm _not_ having seizures!" Blair insisted. "They're just bad dreams." 

Simon held up his hands to ward off the argument. "Gentlemen...." He cocked his head, eyeing the detective and observer from beneath one arched brow. "Think we can get down to work?" The pair nodded and they settled around the captain's desk. "Bring me up to speed on the Mulligan case, would you, Jim?" he asked, looking pointedly at his detective. 

"Not much new to tell," the detective said with a shrug. "We're still trying to track the whereabouts of his business partner. All the leads so far have been dead ends." 

"There's the mistress," Blair interjected. 

"Mistress?" Simon turned to the police observer. 

"Yeah. Lara, Mulligan's secretary, said she thought he was seeing someone on the side," Blair confirmed. 

Jim shrugged. "It's not much, but we were going to check it out today," he added. 

"Okay, then," Simon growled, motioning with his cigar toward the door. "Get going." 

Blair stood up to follow Jim and began to sway ominously. Grasping the edge of the table to soften his fall, he sank down. The floor beneath him shuddered and the walls appeared to roll like waves. A sound like a freight train roared in his ears as he huddled on the floor waiting out the interminable shockwave. Then everything went dark. 

"What the hell just happened?" Simon roared as Jim knelt next to his partner, cradling the shaking body in his arms. 

Stroking damp tendrils of hair from the sweating forehead, the detective looked up at his captain. "He's having a seizure, sir." 

"I can see that," Simon said, his voice biting as he came down on one knee beside his team. "What do you suppose brought it on?" 

Jim shook his head. "I don't know, Simon. He hasn't had one of these in weeks." He looked up at his worried superior. "Maybe this is linked to those nightmares he's been having. We'll just have to wait until he wakes up." 

Simon sighed and rose to his feet. Rounding his desk, he poured himself a cup of coffee, and then held it aloft with a questioning look. Jim nodded, and the captain poured a second mug, bringing it back to the waiting detective. 

Jim took a sip and set the mug aside, concentrating on pulling the lax body further into his lap and making his partner comfortable. The shaking had stopped, and he now waited for Blair to regain consciousness. 

Lashes fluttered and Blair opened his eyes slowly, blinking to focus on the face bending over him. "Jim?" 

"I'm here, Sweetheart," Jim replied softly. 

"Is it over?" Fighting the lethargy that always followed a seizure, Blair struggled to sit up. 

"Is what over?" Jim helped the younger man off the floor and into a chair, while Simon looked on with concern. 

"The earthquake, man. It must have been at least a six or seven on the Richter scale." Blair looked around, confused. 

"Something the matter, Sandburg?" Simon asked gruffly to cover his worry. 

"There's nothing out of place," Blair said, wonder coloring his voice. "After a quake of that magnitude --" 

"There wasn't any earthquake," Jim interrupted. "Blair, you had a seizure." 

"No earthquake?" The young man was still confused, the remnants of the seizure interfering with his ability to think clearly. 

Both Jim and Simon shook their heads. Jim reached over to rest a steadying hand on Blair's shoulder. "No earthquake. Maybe it was a vision." 

"But Incacha wasn't there to guide me," Blair whispered. "It felt so real. I was here... right here." He pointed to the floor. 

Simon raised his eyes from the slumped observer to those of his detective. "Maybe you should take him home," he suggested gently. "The case can wait. Take the day off and make sure your partner is okay." 

"I'm fine," Blair protested, frowning. He struggled to stand, but the effort was too much for his exhausted limbs to manage. 

"Sure you are, Sandburg." Simon's voice held a hint of playful sarcasm. "For a change, will you just do as you're told?" 

"I've got him," Jim said, helping Blair to stand. "Come on, let's get you home." 

The young man scrabbled to get his feet under him, and then leaned heavily into the firm embrace of his partner. "Sorry, Simon." Blair's words were slightly slurred as he fought to regain control of his body. 

"Just get home and take care of yourself," the captain ordered, standing in the doorway of his office and watching as the two men made their way slowly out of Major Crime and into the elevator. 

They stumbled into the loft twenty minutes later. Jim half walked, half dragged Blair over to the couch and lowered him onto the cushions. "Wait here while I get you some water and an aspirin," he ordered. By the time he had returned with the medication, Blair was asleep. 

Jim sank down on the edge of the couch, pulling an afghan from the back to cover the huddled form. "Dammit, Babe," he whispered. "Sometimes I hate Incacha for doing this to you." He sighed, memories winging back to his days spent in the jungles of Peru, with the Chopec shaman as his guide and mentor. The wise native medicine man had taught him much about his senses and his life. When he'd shown up in Cascade, Jim couldn't have been more pleased to see him again. But with his death, he had passed a mantle of responsibility onto Blair that the inexperienced young shaman had struggled with mightily over the past year. 

Blair's visions were triggered by epileptic seizures, "little deaths" the anthropology student had called them, which sent his spirit soaring to another plane where truths were revealed. Blair had helped Jim find a murderer, had rescued him from almost certain death more than once, and had been instrumental in finding the mayor's daughter who had been buried alive by her kidnapper. His powers and abilities were growing, being refined through use, and his accuracy was astounding. What if these dreams of disaster were more than just dreams? Jim shuddered at the thought. 

Shaking off the melancholy mood that had settled over him, Jim rose and went to the kitchen. Searching through the refrigerator, he pulled together the ingredients for a hearty lunch. Generally, when Blair woke from his seizure-induced naps, he was ravenous. A rich homemade vegetable soup was reheated, and roast beef sandwiches prepared. Turning to the coffeemaker, Jim set about brewing a fresh pot of the strong, black brew Blair preferred. 

By the time lunch preparations were finished, Blair was stirring. He had slept through most of the ride home from the station, so he hadn't needed as long a nap once they arrived at the loft. The scent of coffee wafting into the living area finally got through to the addled brain of the anthropologist-cum-shaman, and he finally woke. 

Blair stretched and yawned as he sat up and surveyed the loft, looking slightly disoriented. "Damn." 

"You said it, Chief," Jim agreed, setting the food out on the table. "Feeling up to some lunch?" 

"Are you kidding?" Blair asked, finding his feet and making his way over to the table. "I'm famished!" 

"Typical," Jim teased, sitting opposite his lover. 

It took ten minutes of watching Blair's feeding frenzy before Jim could get a word out of the younger man. 

"So, you saw an earthquake in your vision?" he began. 

"Saw?" Blair looked up from his sandwich. "No way, man. I was _there_! The whole building swayed. I was terrified that it was going to collapse around us." 

"Where were you in this vision?" 

"Simon's office," Blair mumbled around another bite of sandwich. "One minute we were talking about the Mulligan case, the next minute the earth moved under my feet." He looked up from his plate to meet Jim's eyes. "You mean to tell me it didn't happen? That it was all just a vision?" 

Jim shook his head. "I don't know about the vision," he admitted, "but there wasn't any earthquake. The only thing shaking in that office was you." 

"A seizure." 

"Sure looked that way," Jim agreed. "And when you see things during a seizure, it's usually..." 

"...a vision," Blair completed the sentence. "So, what do you think it means?" 

"What do _you_ think it means?" Jim countered, biting into his own sandwich. Despite their repeated successes using Blair's visions, Jim was still uncomfortable with the whole idea. He didn't enjoy watching the fitful shaking induced by the vision-seizures and he felt completely unprepared to interpret the results. 

Blair hesitated. "I know what it felt like," he began. "It felt so real; like it was actually happening, right then and there. I think Cascade's in for a major shaker," he concluded. 

"We've had tremors before," Jim reminded him. "Little old ladies panic and a few things get rearranged on the walls, but it's never overly destructive." 

"According to the USGS, we're overdue for a major quake," Blair said between spoonfuls of soup. "The last major earthquake in Washington was over thirty years ago. Since then, it's been suggested that our area could be vulnerable to a quake with a magnitude of 9.0 or greater." 

"But the likelihood..." 

"I know what I saw, what I felt," Blair interrupted. "I think Cascade's in for a major event. We've gotta warn people to take precautions." 

"And start a city-wide panic? I don't think so, Chief," Jim said, shaking his head. "Besides, we don't actually _know_ anything's going to happen." 

Blair eyed his nearly empty soup bowl contemplatively. "This was so different." His voice was soft. Raising his eyes to look at Jim, he continued, "Like no vision I've ever had before. Incacha has always been there to guide me, but not this time." 

"Maybe you've 'graduated' beyond needing him," suggested Jim. 

"Maybe," Blair agreed. "But if this _was_ a vision, we're in for some major damage. I think a visit to Rainier's seismology lab might be in order. They have a seismograph there; maybe they can tell us something." 

"Whoa." Jim reached out to put a restraining hand on Blair's arm. "You're not going anywhere today, Einstein. You just had a seizure, remember?" 

Blair shook off the hand and picked up his dishes, carrying them into the kitchen. "I'm fine," he insisted. "I'm not a little kid you have to watch over, you know. I'm your lover, your partner, your Guide, your _equal_ \-- _remember_?" 

"How can I forget when you keep reminding me?" Jim replied, both pleased and worried about Blair's recent ascension to equality with the Sentinel. He joined his partner at the sink, rinsing his dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. "But if you insist on going to the university, I'm going with you. Simon gave us both the rest of the day off." 

Blair shrugged. "Suit yourself; I'm going." 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Hi, Doctor Fletcher!" Blair greeted Rainier's resident seismologist. 

"Well, hello, Blair!" the middle-aged, balding scientist welcomed his guest. "What brings you by my humble office? I thought classes were out for the summer." 

"They are, actually," Blair said, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "I, uh... this is my partner, Jim Ellison. We work together at the police department." He gestured toward Jim, and then fell silent. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Fletcher asked, moving around the small office, monitoring the equipment. 

"Blair's been having nightmares -- of earthquakes." Jim stepped in to rescue his suddenly tongue-tied friend. "We were wondering if there's been any indication of seismic activity?" 

"Nothing in particular from the mountains, except for the usual, expected rumblings," the doctor replied. "However, there's been more activity than usual out in the Strait of Juan de Fuca." He turned to look at the two men. "I don't know how much you know about plate tectonics," he continued, "but the oceanic Juan de Fuca plate is slowly being subducted; that is, it is sliding beneath the continental North American plate at an approximate speed of four centimeters per year. It is this movement which created the Cascade Mountains, and is responsible for the seismic activity we've been monitoring here in Puget Sound and the Strait." 

"There have been quakes?" Blair asked, moving closer to Fletcher in order to look over his shoulder at the instruments. 

"Very minor," the seismologist explained, pointing at the scribblings of the graph. "Nothing you'd be able to actually feel, but the activity has been picking up, getting stronger." 

Blair frowned as he watched the seismograph draw its jagged lines, much like a lie detector. "What are the chances of a large quake in the area?" 

"In Cascade?" Doctor Fletcher eyed the young man. "We're well overdue for a major event. The likelihood is for a large earthquake in the next ten to fifteen years." 

"How large is 'large'?" Jim wanted to know, coming to stand next to Blair. 

Fletcher thought a moment. "Anywhere from an 8 to a 9.9," he finally answered. 

"And that would do how much damage?" the detective asked, wrapping his arm around his lover's shoulders. 

"It would be bad," Fletcher said, shaking his head. "Cascade hasn't done nearly as much as it should toward earthquake-proofing its buildings. A quake of that magnitude would bring down buildings, bridges; take out electricity and utilities; cause massive loss of life." He sighed. "They'd be digging out the rubble for weeks." 

"Do you see that happening -- soon?" Blair asked. 

The scientist shook his head. "If you mean like next week, or next month; no. The activity we've been monitoring isn't outside the usual expected boundaries, even if it is slightly increased over average." 

Blair's cheeks colored slightly as he drew upon his courage to speak to the doctor. "I, uh, I have a gift," he stammered. "I know this sounds a little 'out there,' but I'm a practicing shaman now." 

"A shaman?" Fletcher interrupted, giving Blair a curious look. "I know your field is Anthropology, but you're a scientist. When did you get into spiritualist mumbo-jumbo like that?" 

"Please, just listen," insisted Blair, gripping the man's bicep with his fingers. "I've been having these dreams over the past several nights, and today I had a vision." 

The seismologist broke free from Blair's hold and shook his head. "Really, Blair, I thought you were more sensible than that." 

Blair sighed. "I know it's hard to swallow," he agreed, "but it's true. I started having seizures just less than two years ago, and with them have come visions. I know, I know..." he nodded. "But please, just hear me out. In one vision, I saw Jim hurt, in the bottom of some deep hole -- we found him in a pit at the garbage dump. In another, I saw the location of a young girl who had been buried alive and left for ransom." 

"The mayor's daughter?" Fletcher asked. "I remember reading about that in the paper. They said a psychic found her." 

"Not a psychic -- not in the usual sense of the term," Blair explained. "But, yeah, that was me. I see things, Jay; things that are real, things that come true." 

"And you've been seeing earthquakes?" 

"Big ones, scary ones," the shaman confirmed. "I'm always caught in a building or an elevator; it's terrifying." 

Jim nodded. "Since he started having these visions, he's rarely been wrong." 

"I've never been wrong," Blair corrected him with a stern look. 

"He's never been wrong," Jim repeated, smiling at his partner. "I've come to trust him. This is, however, the first time he's ever sensed something _before_ it happened." 

Blair shrugged. "True, I've never shown tendencies toward precognition before, but these dreams, these visions... they're just too real to ignore." 

Jay Fletcher looked over at the seismograph again before turning back to the pair. "All I can tell you is that there's no hard data to back you up -- at least not at the moment. Perhaps your vision is for several years into the future...." 

"I don't know," said Blair, shaking his head. "It just feels so immediate, so _now_." He held out his hand to the doctor. "Thanks, Jay. Sorry we bothered you." 

"It's never a bother," Fletcher said, shaking Blair's hand. "Come by any time. I enjoy the visits." He turned to Jim, offering his hand. "It was nice meeting you, Jim. You're welcome here anytime." 

"Thanks, Doctor Fletcher." Jim shook the proffered hand. "We appreciate the help." 

"No problem. Now, don't be such a stranger, Blair," he called after the departing men. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Now will you rest?" Jim asked as they entered the loft. "You need time to regain your strength." 

"I was just so sure," Blair sighed, settling on the couch. 

"Just because Fletcher couldn't confirm your visions doesn't mean they don't have substance," Jim reminded him. "It could be that the quake isn't all that imminent." 

"Maybe," Blair agreed, running a hand through his thick curls, pushing them away from his face. 

"Why don't you lie down and take a nap?" Jim suggested. "It's my night to make dinner, anyway." 

Blair nodded, pulling the afghan off the back of the couch and curling onto his side. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Nearly a week passed without Blair having any more visions. The nightmares had ceased, allowing the young man to sleep peacefully. Jim breathed a sigh of relief, but remained on alert. Experience told him that they hadn't seen the last of the portentous visions. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim and Blair walked into the Major Crime bullpen, prepared to tackle the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated over the past week and a half. Before they could settle at Jim's desk, Simon poked his head out of his office door and called for them to come in for a meeting. 

"What's up, Simon?" Jim asked as he entered the office, Blair close on his heels. Chief Warren was there, as well as the mayor. Jim looked around suspiciously. 

"Just come in and close the door," Simon ordered, waiting until Blair had shut the door behind them. "Jim, as you probably know, it's that time of year again." 

"What time would that be, sir?" Jim asked, all too certain he knew exactly what his captain was talking about. 

"The 'Cop of the Year' Awards Banquet," the Mayor filled in, watching as Jim shook his head and backed toward the door, bumping into Blair who blocked his exit. 

"We know how much you hated being surprised last year," Chief Warren chimed in. "So we thought we'd be up front about this time. Your record, Detective, is outstanding. You and your partner here have the highest arrest and conviction rate of any team in the department. So this year we've decided to award you jointly." 

A small gasp came from behind Jim. "But I'm not a cop!" Blair protested. "Jim deserves the honor." 

"You may not be officially attached to the Department," the Mayor explained, "but you were instrumental in finding my daughter, and you have worked closely with Ellison on all of his major cases for the past four years. Chief Warren and I have discussed this with Captain Banks and we are all agreed that you should share in the honor." 

Jim was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Looks like I'm not going to be alone up on that podium this year," he said, slapping Blair on the back and then draping a friendly arm over his shoulders. "Maybe this won't be so bad, after all." 

"The ceremony and banquet are being held this Saturday at the Elks' Lodge downtown," the Mayor informed them. "We need you there no later than seven o'clock; formal attire, gentlemen." 

With a polite nod toward the mayor and the police chief, Jim turned to his captain. "Is that all, sir? We have a pile of arrest reports to process." 

"Go on," said Simon with a chuckle, waving the two men out of his office. He turned a satisfied grin on the Mayor and the Chief, knowing that Jim wouldn't back out now that Blair was being honored as well. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair picked up a folder as they settled at Jim's desk. "Can you believe that?" he asked in hushed tones. 

"What?" Jim asked, firing up the computer. "That the brass would finally come around and recognize your contribution to this department?" 

"Well, yeah," the still stunned consultant agreed. "I mean I've never been officially recognized as a part of the team; and now, here they are, giving me co-honors as 'Cop of the Year'." 

"You've earned it," Jim said as he busily began filling in the arrest reports. "The only things you lack are a badge and a gun. You've been playing the part of detective pretty convincingly for the past four years. And since this shaman thing kicked in...." He let the sentence trail off as he turned to look at his partner. "Well, let's just say that you've more than paid your dues." 

"I don't know..." Blair continued to reason softly. 

"Wait." Jim held up a hand to still the argument. "Be quiet for a minute." 

Blair closed his mouth and watched silently as Jim tipped his head as though listening to something. "There. Do you hear that?" the Sentinel asked. 

"Hear what?" Blair asked, looking confused. "What is it that you hear?" 

Jim held up his hand again and Blair closed his mouth. A minute later he said, "There... that." 

"I don't hear anything, Jim." Blair was beginning to worry. "Can you describe the sound?" 

"It's quiet; a low rumbling noise," Jim said softly. "There it is again. It's almost like a groan, but it's not human." 

"You're certain? Maybe you're hearing something from a floor or two away. Try dialing down hearing a notch." 

Jim shook his head. "No, it's not that. Hmmphf, it's gone now," he said with a sigh. "I don't know, Chief. Maybe I'm just hearing things." 

"Yeah, maybe," Blair agreed, not truly believing the explanation. 

The rest of the day was fairly routine -- the boring job of filling out paperwork going slowly but steadily. By the time it was time to clock out, both men were exhausted. Standing, Jim stretched, causing several joints to pop in sympathy. "Let's get out of here. What do you say about picking up some Thai on the way home? I don't think either of us feels much like cooking tonight." 

"You got that right," Blair agreed, falling into his customary place beside Jim as they headed for the elevator. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim gathered up the white take-out boxes to throw into the trash while Blair took care of their scantily used dishes. Once they were done, Jim grabbed a beer from the fridge and turned his back on the kitchen, heading for the couch. "Want to watch a movie tonight?" 

Blair followed, running a hand through his thick mop of hair. "I'm not sure I can stay up that late," he admitted. "For some reason, I'm really bushed tonight." 

Jim reached out to lay a palm against Blair's forehead as his lover settled next to him on the couch. "You feeling okay?" 

"I'm fine, just tired," answered Blair, batting the hand away. "Maybe we can catch the news, and I'll hit the sack early." 

Jim leaned forward to snag the remote control from the coffee table. As he did, the low rumbling noise he'd heard earlier in the day caught his attention. "There it is again," he commented. "You didn't hear that?" He turned to Blair, his eyes widening in distress as he saw the young shaman freeze, glassy-eyed, before he toppled sideways and began to shake. 

==|+|==|+|==|+|==|+|== 

_"Yeah. What do you suppose...?" Before Jim could finish speaking, the couch moved beneath them. The sensation was like riding a boat across gently rolling swells. "What the hell?"_

_"Ah, shit!" Blair exclaimed. "It's an earthquake!"_

_Pictures began to rattle on the walls, books slipped off the shelves to land with a thud on the hardwood floor, and then the lights flickered and went out. The shaking continued, getting more violent. Jim surged up off the couch, grabbing Blair's arm and dragging him toward the sturdy dining table, shoving him beneath it before crawling under to crouch next to his partner._

_"Oh, man. I knew it! I knew it!" Blair muttered, his arms wrapped over his head for protection._

_"Try to stay calm, Babe," Jim soothed. "These things never last long. We're going to be fine."_

_The shaking continued, rattling dishes out of the cupboard to come crashing onto the counters. A pipe burst in the bathroom, and the Sentinel could hear the rush of water as it began flooding the tiles. When the shaking finally ended, a mere twenty-three seconds later, the loft was in ruins._

==|+|==|+|==|+|==|+|== 

Jim dropped to his knees beside the couch, his arms gently restraining the trembling body. Blair's eyes had rolled back but remained open, and foam, tinted pink with blood, dribbled from the corner of his mouth. The low rumbling noise that had troubled Jim off and on that day continued in the background, muffled by the hammering of his heart. 

"Come on, Blair; come on." Jim brushed damp tendrils of hair away from his lover's face as he waited impatiently for the seizure to end. "Don't do this to me, Sweetheart. You know how I hate it when you do this." 

The seizure lasted no more than thirty seconds, but it seemed like an eternity to the troubled Sentinel, who worried whenever his Guide had one of his visions. The body beneath his hands stilled, and Blair took a deep, shuddering breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and focusing on Jim. "Is it over?" he asked, his voice weak with exhaustion. 

"Yeah, Chief," Jim assured him, gently stroking the sweaty forehead. "It's over; you're okay." 

"Are you okay?" Blair's eyes had drifted shut once more, but tired as he was, he had to know. 

Jim looked puzzled, frowning at his exhausted lover. "Um, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" 

Struggling to remain conscious despite being gripped by an almost overwhelming desire to sleep, Blair explained. "The earthquake, man. It was a big one. The lights went out, stuff broke..." 

"What are you talking about, Einstein? There wasn't any earthquake," Jim informed him. "I heard that rumbling noise again, and when I turned to ask you about it, you were having a seizure." 

"A seizure?" Blair asked dumbly. "Not an earthquake?" 

Jim smiled and shook his head. "No earthquake, just a lot of shaking on your part." 

"Oh, God, Jim, it was so real!" groaned Blair. "Something's gonna happen. I just know it." 

"Well, it's not happening now," Jim assured him. "You need to go to bed and get some sleep." He stood, offering a hand to help Blair up off the couch. Once the anthropologist was on his feet, Jim wrapped an arm around his waist and gently led him up the stairs to their bed. Throwing back the blankets, he lowered Blair onto the mattress, bending down to pull off his shoes and socks. "You get some rest," he ordered gently. "We'll discuss this again in the morning." 

"Are you coming to bed?" Blair asked plaintively. "I'll sleep better if you're here with me." 

Jim thought about it for all of five seconds before deciding that he had also had enough for one day. As he stripped and climbed under the covers, the low rumble -- a sound that set his teeth on edge -- continued to haunt him. Fishing in his nightstand drawer, he finally found the white noise generating earplugs that Blair had given him and inserted them. The blissful hiss masked the annoying noise. Wrapping Blair in the comforting circle of his arms, he went to sleep. 

~oO0Oo~ 

The next morning found the detective and his partner back at the small office of Jay Fletcher. 

"I know it sounds crazy," Blair was explaining, "but I just _know_ something big is about to happen, and I really think we ought to be warning people." 

Fletcher nodded. "Well, I have noticed an increase in small tremors deep beneath the surface, out in the Strait," he admitted. "The equipment has been picking up ULF emissions since yesterday." 

"'ULF'?" Jim asked. 

"Ultra low frequency waves -- sound waves with a frequency below one Hertz," Fletcher explained. 

Jim nodded and turned to Blair. "Maybe that explains all those rumbling noises I've been hearing." 

"Oh, no," the seismologist interrupted. "ULF is below the hearing threshold for humans. We theorize that animals can hear or sense it, though, as they seem to have foreknowledge of major earthquakes." 

"So you think we may be in for a major quake soon?" Blair asked, diverting the conversation away from Jim's sensitive hearing. 

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Fletcher hedged. "I've sent my findings to the US Geological Survey for their interpretation, but it will be a few days before I hear back." He turned to his instruments. "This area is known for a large number of micro-quakes, earthquakes too small to be felt. We live practically on top of two major plates of the earth's crust which are grinding together all the time." 

"But we're overdue for a big quake, right?" Blair clarified. 

"Well... yes," Fletcher reluctantly agreed. "But that doesn't mean much in the sense of geological time. We could be looking at anywhere from next week to three decades down the line." 

"So, this ULF doesn't mean anything?" asked Jim. 

"Oh, it means something," Fletcher corrected. "One of the first times ULF was detected as a precursor to a major earthquake was in October of 1989, two weeks before the 7.1 earthquake that shook Candlestick Park during the third game of the World Series. ULF is of particular interest to scientists because only electromagnetic signals in that range or lower frequencies can be recorded at the earth's surface without significant attenuation when the signals are generated at the depths typical of large earthquakes -- approximately ten kilometers." 

Jim cocked an eyebrow at the scientist. "So it _does_ mean something?" 

"It could. The trouble is, we just don't have enough data to reliably use ULF as a positive indicator that a big quake is imminent." Fletcher shrugged his shoulders, looking apologetic. "Believe me, we're watching this closely. We just don't want to start a panic. We need something a little more concrete before we go running to the media." 

Blair released a sigh. "I understand that, Jay, but I can't shake the feeling -- pardon the pun -- that the 'big one' is going to hit soon. I mean _soon_ , as in mere days from now. It would really help if you could give us anything, anything at all." 

"I promise you, Blair -- as soon as I know anything, I'll notify you right away," Fletcher said, crossing his heart. "Believe me, if it's possible to warn people ahead of time, then I'm certainly all for letting the public know. I just don't want to jump the gun." 

"Thanks for your help, Doc," Jim said, putting an arm around Blair's shoulders and steering the young man toward the door. "We appreciate your putting up with us." 

"Not a problem, Detective. I'll be in touch, I promise." Fletcher waved as the pair left, the older man all but pushing the reluctant anthropologist out the door. 

Once they were outside the building, Blair shrugged off Jim's hold. "Okay, so now what?" he groused. 

"Now we see about renting a couple of tuxes for Saturday night," Jim answered, steering Blair toward the truck. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Come on, Jim, we're going to be late," Blair called up the stairs as he tied his hair back into a neat ponytail. The local news droned on the TV in the background as he tugged at the lapels of his tux and fidgeted with his bow tie. 

"Can you help me with this, Sandburg?" Jim asked trotting down the stairs, his tie still hanging loose around his collar. 

"I thought you were brought up knowing how to tie these things," Blair teased as he deftly went about tying a perfect knot. 

Jim chuckled. "That was Dad. You know me better than that, Chief; when I have to wear a tie, it's a clip-on." 

"I'll just turn off the TV and we can get going," Blair said, walking across the room to pick up the remote. 

"Wait!" Jim's soft command stopped him. Both men turned their attention to the news. 

_...The US Geological Survey has issued an earthquake warning for the greater Cascade area, ranging from Seattle north to Vancouver, British Columbia. A cluster of small earthquakes has been reported in the Strait of Juan de Fuca, increasing in number and intensity over the past several days. Residents are urged to stay indoors..._

Blair clicked off the TV. "It's about time," he growled. "Now what?" 

"Now I'd say we had better get to the Elks' Lodge," Jim said, heading for the front door. "Simon, the Chief, and the Mayor are there. My guess is, they haven't heard the news." The phone rang, but Jim grabbed Blair's arm, steering him out the door. "Leave it." 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jay Fletcher hung up after five rings. By now, Blair and his friend had probably already heard the announcement on the news. 

~oO0Oo~ 

The blue Ford pickup turned into the parking lot of the Elks' Lodge at 7:16 p.m. Jim set the brake and turned to his partner. "You ready to go in? It's going to be a circus in there, you know." 

"I know, but they're expecting us, and we're already late." He leaned across the seat to peck a quick kiss against his lover's lips. As he reached for the door handle, the first rumblings of the earth began to shake the truck. "Oh God, Jim, it's started!" he gasped, letting go of the handle and sitting tight in the cab of the truck. 

The shaking intensified as the two men sat and watched in horror as the world literally crumbled around them. The lodge shifted visibly, shaking back and forth until timbers began to crack and the building started to collapse. People burst through the front doors, escaping out into the relative safety of the open parking lot. 

Blair's hand went to the door handle again, but a hand urgently tugging on his arm stopped him. "Not yet, Chief." 

"But, Jim... those people need our help!" Blair insisted, shrugging free. 

"Just stay put until the shaking stops," Jim insisted. "We won't be able to do any good if we get injured ourselves." 

As if to emphasize his words, a large crack appeared in the pavement of the parking lot right in front of the truck, sending the vehicle into a nosedive. Blair's head impacted the dashboard with a hard thud. 

"Blair! Sweetheart! Are you all right?" Jim immediately pushed the young man back against the seat and began examining the reddened area on his forehead. 

"I'm fine," Blair mumbled, rubbing at his aching head. "Guess I unfastened the seatbelt too soon, huh?" 

"You could say that," Jim answered, his lips tight with concern. Once he had assessed that his lover wasn't seriously injured, he realized that the violent shaking had stopped. In the eerie silence following the earthquake, people milled around in the parking lot, dazed and disoriented. 

The two men exited the truck and began helping organize the people, mostly women, it appeared, who had escaped. They gathered the survivors together in a relatively unscathed area of the parking lot, leaving them to rest until the medical teams could arrive to assess their physical condition. One of the last out of the building was Megan Connor. 

Blair rushed to the side of the shaken Inspector, looping an arm around her waist to steady her. "Hang on, Megan," he said, leading her over to where the other survivors waited. "Are you all right?" 

"Don't worry about me, Sandy," she insisted. "Captain Banks, Chief Warren, and the Mayor are still inside. You've got to help them. I'll be fine." 

"We really need to get you checked out by the paramedics," Blair insisted, trying to get the stubborn Aussie to settle down. 

"Nothing but a bump," she insisted. "You're going to need all the help you can get to rescue the people still trapped in there." She waved an arm toward the rubble of the lodge. 

"Tell you what," Blair said, finally finding a compromise. "You rest here a minute, then organize all the able bodied to help in the rescue. Meanwhile, Jim and I will do our best to locate the survivors." 

"You be careful," Megan admonished. She felt nearly as protective of the young Shaman as his Sentinel did. 

"Don't worry about us. You take care of these people," Blair insisted, turning to join Jim over by the ruins of the large building. "Where do we start?" he asked, overwhelmed by the immensity of the task ahead of them. 

"You take the north end, I'll start at the south. We'll work toward the middle," Jim instructed. "And, Chief?" He paused until Blair stopped to look up at him. "Be careful. There are bound to be some aftershocks, and after a quake of this magnitude, the first ones are probably going to be almost as bad." 

Blair nodded and sprinted to the north, climbing through the rubble, unmindful of the fact that he was still dressed to the nines in an expensive rented tuxedo. About halfway up the tumble of timbers and masonry, he paused, realizing that without some guidance, he would be wasting precious time. Kneeling on a sturdy support beam, he closed his eyes, calling on his spirit guide to lead him in the right direction. 

==|+|==|+|==|+|== 

_The wolf prowled in the depths of the ruined building, sniffing out the bodies of the living. Blair followed, stepping carefully over the fallen timbers, alert to the possibility of aftershocks shifting the delicate balance that held this pocket of the meeting hall open. Scattered throughout the area were men -- some alert, some unconscious. The injuries that Blair could observe seemed minor to moderate; a blessing considering what could have become of these people. Joel Taggert lay sprawled almost at his feet, one leg caught beneath a fallen wooden beam._

_"Hang on, Joel," the Shaman whispered. "I'm coming to get you out."_

==|+|==|+|==|+|== 

Blair opened his eyes and swiveled his head toward a small opening in the jumbled pile of timbers. Slowly, he began moving the beams aside, widening the hole enough that he could see inside. The interior of the building was dark, but his inner sight sensed the people there. Scrabbling in the ruins, he managed to widen the hole enough to climb down inside. 

At his feet lay Taggert, moaning and only half conscious. "I'm here, Joel. Just hang on; I'm going to get you out of here." 

"Blair?" The ex-bomb squad captain opened his eyes in surprise. "You were just here," he muttered. "Said you were coming... but how?" 

"Never mind about that," Blair said tersely. "Think you can pull your leg out if I can get this timber lifted?" Joel nodded, grabbing at his leg as pain shot through it. "Okay, then. Let's try." Blair wrapped his arms around the heavy beam and strained to lift it just enough for Joel to escape. The captain's moans were enough to let him know that he hadn't been successful. Turning around to look for other possibilities, he spotted a sturdy chunk of wood long enough to act as a lever. Wedging it beneath the heavy beam, Blair leaned his whole weight against it, shifting the wood trapping Joel just enough to allow the man to pull free. With an explosive sigh of relief, Blair let the beam crash back into place. "Let's get you out of here, man." 

Several minutes later, Joel Taggert was breathing the fresh air in the parking lot. Megan stood nearby, waiting to escort him to the staging area where the others were still waiting for medical help to arrive. 

Seeing that Taggert was being cared for, Blair turned to head back into the collapsed building, searching for the others he had seen in his vision. 

Meanwhile, heartbeats echoed in the Sentinel's ears, leading Jim to another pocket of survivors. He managed to open a hole big enough to allow the men and women to climb through, aiding them down the shifting pile of rubble to the relative safety of the parking lot before returning to see if there were more he could help. 

Near the west end of the banquet hall, Simon Banks huddled with the Police Chief and the Mayor. Chief Warren nursed a broken left arm, cradling the limb close to his body. The Mayor had suffered a number of bumps and bruises, losing consciousness when the pain finally overcame him. Only Simon remained relatively unscathed. His eyes widened with surprise as Sandburg, tuxedo dirty and torn, made his way through the labyrinth of twisted steel and fallen timbers. 

"Sandburg, what the hell?" The police captain scowled at his rescuer. 

"Sorry we're late, Simon," Blair apologized with a smile. "But better late than never!" 

~oO0Oo~ 

By the time Blair had led Simon, the Police Chief and the Mayor to the safety of the exit shaft, fire trucks and rescue crews had arrived on the scene. Paramedics were checking the people scattered over the parking lot and rescue workers were busying ferreting out the few remaining people in the building. Amazingly, no one in the Elks' Lodge had perished in the earthquake. Most of the injuries were minor, ranging from broken bones to nothing more than bruises. 

Jim looked around, his face lighting up when he saw his captain. "Simon! You're all right!" He came over to thump his boss and friend on the back. 

"Thanks to Sandburg," Simon acknowledged. "The kid found us in that pile of rubble and brought us out." 

"Where is he?" asked Jim, looking around for signs of his lover. 

Simon looked around, surprised. "He was right behind us...." As he spoke, the ground trembled with a strong aftershock. Behind them, timbers shifted and the building collapsed a bit further. 

"Where?" Jim asked more urgently. 

Worried, Simon looked around. "I don't see him." He started back toward the fallen building. "We came out right over here." He began climbing through the debris despite the warnings of the firemen who were trying to control the scene. 

"Sir! Sir!" The fire chief grabbed at Simon's arm. "You can't go climbing around here, it's dangerous." 

"My partner may be trapped in there!" Jim shouted, shoving the man aside and rushing past Simon to gaze into the darkness of the hole from which his captain had been rescued. Pupils dilating, his sensitive vision made out the form of a man no more than five meters down, trapped by a heavy wooden support beam that had fallen across his shoulders. "Blair! Blair, can you hear me?" A moan echoed up the shaft. Russet curls shook, sending a fog of dust into the air. Blue eyes met those of the Sentinel. 

"'m okay," Blair mumbled. "Just get me out of here!" 

"Help is coming. You've got to stay awake, okay, Babe? Stay with me," Jim commanded, relieved to know that Blair was going to be all right. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Two hours after the 8.0 magnitude earthquake, Jim sat at the bedside of his partner and lover. The hospital was a flurry of activity, the emergency room overloaded and the staff overworked. It was going to be a very long night for the doctors and nurses of Cascade General Hospital. 

Fortunately, Blair had only sustained a moderate concussion and some deep bruising to his shoulders from the beam that had fallen on him as he had attempted to follow Simon out of the collapsed building. The doctor had told Jim that after twenty-four hours in the hospital for observation, Blair would be able to go home. 

"Jim?" 

The soft voice brought Jim's head up. He had begun to drowse after the exertions of the day and the worry over Blair's well being. "Hey, Sweetheart." His hand drifted over the bedrail to brush the hair away from the bandaged brow. "How you feeling?" 

"Tell the natives to stop beating on those drums, would ya?" Blair smiled weakly at his partner. "Head hurts; shoulders hurt," he reported succinctly. "What's the prognosis?" 

"Concussion," Jim replied, returning the smile. "What else? With that hard head of yours, you practically asked for it." Blair chuckled, letting his eyes slide closed. "Don't scare me like that anymore, okay? What were you thinking, going down in that hole without me?" 

"You were busy," Blair whispered, keeping his eyes shut. "I 'saw' Simon and the others down there. They needed my help." 

"You should have waited," Jim scolded. "The fire department arrived about the same time Simon was coming out. They could have done the rescue; they certainly have more experience than you." 

"Sounds good in hindsight," Blair countered, finding it harder to speak as Morpheus tried to claim him again. His final words were slurred with sleep, "But... didn' know at the time..." 

Jim patted the hand that rested on top of the blankets. "You did good, Babe. You're a hero, you know." 

Blair's soft snores echoed in the quiet room. 

~oO0Oo~ 

The following day found Blair sitting up, pillows piled behind him, trying to eat what the hospital called 'lunch'. "A guy could starve to death in here," he muttered, eyeing the roast beef sandwich Jim had gotten from the hospital's coffee shop with longing. 

Jim grinned and offered half the sandwich to his lover. "But you're not getting the chips," he said, holding the small bag against his chest. 

"Thanks!" Blair said, accepting the gift with enthusiasm. A blissful smile curved his lips as he chewed the fresh sandwich. "Hospital food always tastes like week-old leftovers heated up," he complained. "This is heaven!" 

There was a knock on the door. Still dressed in his tattered and dirty tuxedo, Jim rose to answer the summons. Outside in the hallway stood Simon, accompanied by Chief Warren and the Mayor. Behind them was a small news crew. Jim gave his superiors a questioning look, scowling at the media. "Hi, Simon. What's up?" 

"May we come in?" the captain asked. "We have something for you and Sandburg." 

"Blair's nursing a concussion," Jim informed him. "He doesn't need a lot of excitement." 

"I promise, we won't stay long," the Mayor interjected. "This is important." 

"All right," Jim agreed, reluctantly stepping aside to allow the men to enter. He moved to block the reporter and cameraman. "You can wait outside," he said, trying to close the door. 

"We're here at the mayor's request. Maddie Johnston." The reporter held out her hand in greeting. "And this is my video man, Chad Sheavers. I promise, you won't even know that we're here." She pushed her way inside, motioning Chad for the camera angle she wanted. As the men gathered around Blair's bed, she quickly spoke her introduction into her microphone. 

The Mayor cleared his throat. "Last evening, we were gathered at the Elks' Lodge to honor you both with the 'Cop of the Year' award," he began, including both Jim and Blair with his sweeping look. "The award was to be presented for outstanding police work and service to the community," he continued. "At 7:16, an earthquake shook Cascade, trapping us in the collapsed building. Thanks to your heroism, no one gathered at that function died. We've come here today, to thank you both, and to present you with this year's award." He handed the plaque to Blair, who looked with wonder at the twin inscriptions -- his name beneath that of Jim's. 

Blair handed the plaque off to Jim and tugged at the blankets, pulling them up to his chin when he noticed the camera pointed his way. 

"Say something, Chief," Jim urged with a grin. "This is your fifteen minutes of fame." 

"I-I didn't do anything special," the Shaman protested, looking around. 

The Mayor chuckled. "Typical," he said, patting Blair's shoulder. "This young man is responsible for the rescue of myself, Police Chief Warren, and Captain Simon Banks, among others too numerous to name; and he thinks he didn't do anything special. Son," the Mayor intoned, "you are a hero, whether or not you want to own up to it." 

"He's right, you know," Jim agreed, drawing his partner's attention. "You earned your place on this plaque; you have a right to be proud." 

"But you did as much as I did," Blair protested. "More, 'cause I got trapped trying to get out." 

"Injured in the line of duty," Jim teased, causing Blair's cheeks to turn pink. "The sign of a true hero." 

"All right, Sandburg, enough is enough. Say something intelligent," Simon growled, the twinkle in his eye belying his gruff tone. 

Blair cleared his throat, looking at his three visitors and his partner, studiously trying to ignore the team from Channel 12. "I-I..." he stammered. "T-thank you. I really appreciate the honor. It's been my pleasure to work beside Jim, Detective Ellison," he corrected, glancing at the camera. "I've learned a lot, and this proves it." Jim handed him back the plaque and he held it proudly for the camera and the world to see. 

"I couldn't have asked for a better partner," Jim added. "Without his help, I wouldn't have earned this award four years running. It's about time someone noticed." He glanced pointedly at the mayor and the police chief. 

Maddie made a slicing motion with her finger across her throat, the sign for Chad to stop filming. The camera was lowered and the news team stepped into the hallway. 

"I suppose we should be leaving as well," Chief Warren said. "You need to get your rest. I hear they'll be releasing you later this evening?" 

"If he behaves," Jim said, jumping into the conversation before Blair had a chance to speak up. 

"I want you both to take tomorrow off," Simon ordered. "Get some rest and see to it that you're on your toes. This city has a lot of cleaning up to do, and we're going to need you at top form." 

"Aye, aye, Captain," Jim said with a mock salute. When their guests had left, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "It's about time!" 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Looks like we have a little cleaning up to do," Blair commented as Jim ushered him into the loft later that evening. 

Books, pictures, and artifacts littered the living room. Cupboard doors had come open and dishes had smashed onto the counter and floor. The tiles in the bathroom, as well as the floors in the hall and adjoining rooms, were flooded from a crack in the pipe beneath the bathroom sink. 

"This all looks so damn familiar," Blair said, shivering as a feeling of dj vu settled over him. 

"Seen it before?" Jim asked knowingly. Blair nodded. "Well, it's not your problem. Not tonight, anyway," he said. "You're headed straight to bed." 

"I'm not an invalid," Blair protested. "I got hit on the head, what's new about that? Let me help." 

Jim was already in the bathroom closet on his knees with a wrench, turning off the water. "Not tonight, Slugger. We'll see how you're feeling in the morning. I'm sure there will be plenty left for you to do." He dried his hands and came out, guiding Blair over to the stairs. 

"If you promise," said Blair reluctantly. "I feel like I'm not doing my part. I want to help." 

"I promise," Jim assured him. "Now get to bed." He watched as Blair climbed the stairs before returning to the bathroom and getting out the mop to clean up the mess on the floor. 

When he was done for the night, Jim climbed the stairs and stood looking at his lover. Lines of tension, evident for days, were finally smoothed out. He walked softly over to the bed and brushed some stray strands of hair off Blair's face. He wondered how his lover put up with the mop of curls, and then decided that he was glad that he did. His fingers reveled at the touch of the silken skeins. Stripping off his clothes, he raised the blankets and climbed into bed, spooning himself against the warmth of his partner's body. 

The next morning, Blair awoke to find the loft spotless. Books and pictures were back where they belonged, along with the artifacts that had survived the fall. The ones that hadn't were gathered into a box for Blair to go through, in the hope that some, at least, might be salvageable. The broken plates were swept up, and what was left was back neatly in the cupboards. The bathroom floor shone from a fresh mopping, and the broken pipe had been replaced. He shook his head, frowning when he saw Jim in the kitchen fixing breakfast. 

"I thought you promised me that you'd let me help clean up," Blair accused. 

Jim looked sheepish, knowing he'd been caught. Shrugging, he replied, "I just couldn't stop once I got started. You know me." He stopped to chuckle self-deprecatingly. "I didn't touch your office," he stated. "That little free-for-all is all yours for the cleaning." 

"Then I guess I'd better get busy," Blair said, turning toward the old bedroom that was now his home office. 

Jim reached out to grab his arm. "Whoa, partner. Breakfast first." He steered Blair over to the table and sat him down, then went back to the stove for the frying pan of scrambled eggs and ladled a generous serving onto Blair's plate. "How's the head feeling this morning?" 

"The natives aren't beating those drums quite so hard anymore," Blair admitted, grinning. "But I sure am stiff and sore." 

"Not surprised," Jim said sympathetically. "You got banged around pretty good on Saturday." 

"Have you heard any news?" Blair asked. "How bad was it?" 

"The quake was an 8.0 -- a big one. A lot of the downtown is a mess, but the PD and the fire department were spared." Jim sat down to join Blair at breakfast. "So far, the death toll is nineteen, but they're expecting that to increase as they go through the rubble of some of the collapsed buildings. We were damn lucky at the lodge; everyone got out safely." 

"I'm grateful for that," Blair agreed. "I just wish we'd been able to get someone to listen to what we were saying over a week ago." 

"There just wasn't anything scientific on which to base our predictions," Jim reminded him. "Do you really want people thinking you're some sort of psychic?" With that question, he waggled his hands in the air, indicating supernatural mumbo-jumbo. 

Blair sighed. "Not really. Just like you want to keep the Sentinel thing quiet, I'd just as soon not have the world know that I've become a practicing, spirit-walking Shaman." 

Jim nodded. "Need some help with that office of yours?" 

Blair shrugged, and then grimaced when the action sent a paroxysm of pain shooting through his shoulders. 

Jim got up and circled the table, coming to stand behind his lover. He rested his hands gently on Blair's shoulders and very gently began to massage away the spasms making the muscles burn with pain. "You should take it easy, you know," he said. "That's why Simon gave us the day off, after all." He bent down, nibbling kisses along Blair's jaw and down his neck. 

"I'd like to go down to the station and see everyone," Blair admitted. "I know it sounds silly, but I need to see for myself that everyone is okay." He tipped his head back, offering his lips. 

Jim captured the willing mouth briefly before answering. "I don't know," he hedged. "There's an awful lot of activity going on out there. They need the streets clear for the emergency vehicles, and any able-bodied law enforcement personnel are being sent out to keep the peace, stop the looting, and generally try to keep things civil. I don't know if they'd have enough time for a visit." 

"I hadn't thought of that," Blair said. "It must be a real circus. Sorry I brought it up." 

"Don't be sorry," Jim said, pulling Blair's chair back and helping his lover to stand. "I know they all want to see you, too. You're the hero of the hour, after all." 

"Cut it out, Jim! It's bad enough that the news crew had to film me in my hospital gown receiving the 'Cop of the Year' award. I don't need to be reminded that people think I'm a hero." He stood slowly, straightening as he worked the kinks out of his back. "I'm just an ordinary guy who happened to be at the right place at the wrong time. Anybody would have done the same." 

"Not just anybody, Sweetheart," Jim said softly, leading Blair over to the couch. "How about I give the station a call? If Simon says it's okay, we'll drop by for a visit this afternoon." 

"Sounds good to me," Blair agreed. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair's entry into the Major Crime bullpen was greeted with shouts of joy. Joel, Megan, Henri, and Rafe were the first to surround the stunned police observer, pounding him on the back until Jim stepped in to protect his partner. "Easy on the back, H! Blair's been injured, you know!" 

"Oh, sorry, Blair! I didn't realize --" 

"That's okay, H," Blair assured him. "I'll live." 

"We've got a little something for you," Joel said, holding out a wrapped box. 

Blair accepted the gift, looking warily around the group of well-wishers. "What's this all about?" he asked, shaking the box. 

"Open it, Sandy!" Megan urged. "You'll see." 

Blair glanced around the group again as his fingers tore at the paper. "I'm not going to be sorry about this, am I? Come on, guys..." 

"Well," said Joel. "We all watched you accepting the 'Cop of the Year' award in the hospital, and we thought you were a little underdressed for the occasion." 

"Yeah..." Blair agreed. "'Undressed' was a little more like it." He tossed the lid off the box, his fingers picking at the thin cotton gown neatly folded in tissue paper. "What's this?" He held up a hospital gown with a bow tie prominently painted at the neckline on the front. 

"For the next time you have to make a formal acceptance speech when you're hospitalized," Joel explained. 

Blair shook his head, grinning at his friends. He was about to put the box down when he realized there was still something below the gown and tissue paper. He pulled out a leather wallet and opened it. Inside were a gold shield and a special ID card. 

"The Police Chief thought it was about time you officially joined the team," Simon said, coming up behind the shocked observer. "You are now a paid consultant to the department. I talked with Chief Warren, and we've decided that given your 'consultant' status, carrying a firearm is optional. You've gone this long without one, and if you don't want to carry a gun, that's fine with us. But, if you decide you want to go armed, you'll have to pass the course in gun safety and marksmanship just like all the other cadets." 

"Cadets?" Blair asked, looking around. "Does that mean I have to go to the Academy before accepting this position?" His eyes grew wide as Jim and Simon just smiled at him. "I gotta say, I'm flattered and all, but... I'm _not_ cutting my hair." He held out his hands, palms facing forward, warding off the very idea. "I'm not." He shook his head and his curls bounced, glinting red in the afternoon sun. 

* * *

End 

MIGA 9: Prophecy by Natalie L: nat1228@comcast.net  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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